Right Side Up or Upside Down
by draftblue
Summary: AU: Sometimes the biggest decision can be filled with fearlessness and determination. With that the decision can be the best thing that has ever happened. Or the worst.
1. Chapter 1

**For the girl on the subway.**

* * *

Sometimes there is a feeling of fearlessness after a big decision. That the decision just made is exactly what you want to do and that nothing will stop you. The fearlessness to do something with no care about whatever else factors in because you have made the biggest decision in your life; everything is so sure in your head. That feeling, is the feeling Quinn feels when she enthusiastically says yes to Kurt's invitation to go out and celebrate her life choices.

That same feeling falls away when they enter the crowded club and Quinn almost hyperventilates at the differences of the atmosphere from the clubs she had been frequenting before she came out to the club they are in now. She finds herself hugging the bar not for support but more so that she doesn't get whisked away on the dance floor where Kurt is dancing rather questionably with Rachel. Both drunk and splashing their drinks on everyone who don't seem to care.

The many people who come by and try to pick up Quinn is much more than the number of people Quinn is used to. She finds herself uncomfortable and it makes her feel like the decision she had made to come _out_ probably shouldn't have been celebrated so soon with a gay club. It's an hour in and the jack and coke that she has been nursing is heavily diluted with ice that she finds herself grimacing after taking a sip.

"You want me to replace that drink of yours, sweetheart?" Quinn snaps her head up at the bartender staring at her with a smirk. Honestly, Quinn questions why she ever thought men were something to have around when she obviously preferred her female friends around more than she did her boyfriends or her fiancé. She probably should have realized it when she was 10 and tried to untie her babysitter's bikini top. Or when she was 17 and found herself staring at the cheerleaders stretching off to the sidelines rather than the football team winning the homecoming game. One thing she does know is that right now, the sleazy smirk that the bartender is giving her and the way he tries to flex his arm in his cut off shirt is enough for her inwardly cringe.

"Puckerman take your break." Quinn looks past the douchebag with a mohawk and watches as a girl walks in from the back room. Towel on her shoulder, hair in a high but messy ponytail, wife beater hugging any and every curve, jeans sitting low on her hips and Quinn is reminded yet again why she decided to break off her 2 year engagement.

"Yeah one second," The guy yells over his shoulder and looks back at Quinn, "So that drink?" Quinn opens her mouth to answer but nothing comes to mind to really say. She has a feeling saying no would only spur him but she doesn't a chance to deny him when she sees his head reel back and his body step backwards.

"Stop harassing people. You work in a gay bar jackass." Quinn watches as the girl taps the guy on the back of his neck, his muscles and testosterone resulting to nothing while he is continually reprimanded in a corner, "Remember the last time you tried to hit on a girl? Her girlfriend nearly curbstomped your ass into next year."

He says nothing or it seems so when he walks through the double doors. Quinn watches with more interest than she has had all night as the girl works her way around the bar like a DJ with turntables. Her hands quick, while her eyes focused on the crowd in front of her. The quick smile she gives the waitresses is enough for Quinn to breathe in shakily.

A tap on her shoulder has Quinn turning and ready with another decline of any dancing but it's Kurt and Rachel swaying and laughing, "Quinnnn!" The way Kurt slurs her name, makes her smile. At least they're having a good time even if it's her celebration night.

"Quinnnn! Are you having fun?" Rachel looks at Quinn wide eyed and glazed over, "You don't look like you're having fun. Come dance with us, Quinn!" The tug at her hand has her off the stool before she can protest.

She doesn't stay on the dance floor for long, the song doesn't even end and Quinn is already back at the bar. Her eyes search the crowd just in case Kurt and Rachel look for her but she finds them still dancing, drinks still spilling and roaming hands still questionable. She decides to look away, attention behind the bar where the female bartender is taking a small break. iPhone in hand, eyes focused on whatever is illuminating the four inch screen.

She's pretty.

Quinn considers while carefully watching the girl from a distance. When brown eyes meet her hazel, Quinn suddenly doesn't know where to look anymore. Her mind screaming to look somewhere, anywhere, while her eyes hold a gaze that she feels is going on for far too long to forget.

Thankfully, Kurt is busting through the hoard of people and is leaning into Quinn taking her away from a staring contest, "Quinn, you can't stay at the bar forever. I don't care how hot the bartender is. Go and explore your new open world!" His hands fly up over him and Quinn swears all he is missing is confetti.

She takes a quick peek over her shoulder where the female bartender is still watching but with a small smile on her lips. Quinn looks away almost mortified at the possibility of anyone hearing Kurt, then again it doesn't help that he had said most of it during a break in the song.

"Come on, Quinn, dance with us!" Kurt's pulling and Quinn's pulling back and there are a lot of looks from the people around them. So much that Quinn is fighting Kurt to gently unhand her. He gives up after a few more hits to his arm and walks away swaying his hips to the music. Quinn scans the area around her and finds it too hard to look at anyone in the eye. She leaves through the nearest door.

Quinn finds herself in an ally way and she feels relief. The cold November air hitting her face and it's a nice change from the stuffy club. Her mind clears from people constantly bothering her. She starts to think.

How her life has changed in a matter of days. How she was engaged only a week ago to a man her family had been waiting for her to find for years. How she had been living with another person for nearly 5 years and now lives alone. Her job used to be ordinary and coffee delivery and now she's head of her department. Years of boyfriends defining her and now she's single and accepting to her true desires. Or is she?

She thinks back to her moments in the bar, how confident she was before she entered and how terrified she was as soon she did. Will she always be this terrified? Will it be easier? Was it a good idea to finally accept that men weren't what she was looking for?

"Hey Alice in Wonderland!" Quinn gasps in shock, a hand flying up to her chest and her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when she sees who's calling her.

Cigarette in hand with a leather jacket covering the white wife beater Quinn has secretly admired from afar, "You doing alright there?"

Quinn stills her movements, eyes still wide. Words form in her mind but they don't seem to make it further than that.

"Shit, you aren't going to like hurl are you?" Quinn blinks but doesn't move as the woman comes a little closer. The light over the door shining on to their face and Quinn gulps. It's cheesy and probably the worst thing that Quinn will ever repeat in her life when people ask her how she would describe this woman later on but she doesn't care. Not when said woman is staring at her and Quinn can't remember the last time she has ever shared so many moments with someone and not said a single word to them.

"I-I'm," Quinn inhales trying to reign in any kind of courage, "I'm fine."

A face comes closer to hers and Quinn holds her breath in surprise. The woman completely ignoring personal space, "You look a little pale."

"I-I what?"

An index finger waves in front Quinn's face and she blinks at each swipe in the air, "Face. Pale. You sure you're okay?"

Quinn finally pulls away enough to breathe, "I'm okay." Her eyes flick to the door and then back to the woman in front of her, "Honest."

"Alright, Blondie." Brown eyes tear away from Quinn's and the space between them widens, "Just don't want you passing out here by yourself."

The cigarette is flicked somewhere to the side and Quinn hears the door open, "Well come on Alice."

They're inside no more than two seconds when a flustered Kurt comes up to Quinn. His eyes flick over to the bartender and Quinn has to conceal the want to smack the smile that forms on Kurt's face. Mostly because she knows what's coming next.

"QUINN! Well, I-I guess I shouldn't have worried." Kurt leans in close, "Nice going! Not bad for a first timer." His elbow nudges her and Quinn fights the blush creeping up on her cheeks.

Her hands come up and push him away but stay on his shoulder preventing him from losing kind of balance in his state. She peeks over to see the bartender still standing next to her, amused eyes and smile.

"Sorry." Quinn tries to say but Kurt is fighting her to introduce himself.

"Kurt Hummel!" He finally breaks from Quinn's hold and gets in front of her, "And can I say, you are gorgeous." His hand gestures, rather drunkenly, at the girl's face, "And I don't say that often. Quinn here is equally as gorgeous but let me tell you. I am very glad she found someone to help her learn the new horse. After falling off the straight one and all-"

"And it's time to go." Quinn pulls Kurt away but his attention is already somewhere new when his eyes catch another man equally as flamboyant walk by. Quinn lets him go with a sigh. She'll just have to wait until the morning to yell at him, not that she really can. They all do equally stupid things with enough alcohol in their system.

"You look like you need a drink."

Quinn whirls herself around. Fear and humiliation creeping up to her cheeks as she begins to stammer, "I-I uhm. What?"

"You really need to learn how to breathe." Quinn tries to answer again but her hand is being pulled and she is beginning to really get tired of everyone dragging her around.

She finds herself at the bar with a beer in front of her. Her thoughts running from maybe leaving Kurt and Rachel behind to avoid any more embarrassment and how to maybe run back into the closet she so confidently stepped out of not too long ago.

"You just gotta breathe baby girl." Quinn's eyes look up and she hopes her internal struggle isn't that obvious, "Don't be too mad at him."

Quinn runs a hand through her hair, "He means well."

"I'm sure he does. You are in a gay club after all."

The last thing Quinn needs are tears in her eyes so she looks away. In shame? Embarrassment? Fear? She doesn't really know but the feeling is stuck somewhere between her lungs and throat that the only thing she feels is right is to pick up her beer and drink it. Not before tipping it in thanks.

"Don't think too hard, bambi." Quinn knits her brows together, as she mouths the word bambi in confusion, "You got this whole doe eyed thing going on. Scared shitless, not knowing where the fuck you're going. Bambi."

"I feel like you know way too much about me in a very short amount of time."

"Bartenders tend to do that."

"Does the bartender have a name?" It's hopeful but if Quinn is going to have a life talk she might as well know the person she is talking to.

"Santana."

"Quinn."

"I gathered that much bambi." Despite Quinn's inner battle she finds herself chuckling, "But before you run out of here, because you have the look of someone who is just about done with their first gay club experience, can I say something?"

"By all means."

Santana's hands grip the edge of the other side of the bar, her body leaning in slightly, "When you aren't fighting that feeling of whether or not you're right side up or upside down," Santana looks away briefly with a smile. When her eyes meet Quinn's there is a sudden stillness and Quinn has the need to keep it, "Come back and find me. I'd really like to celebrate with you."

Three days later and Quinn still hasn't figured out where she is on the spectrum uncertainty. Whether or not she can call it uncertainty is even beyond her. Her job is better but it doesn't make her feel any better. The feeling caught in between her lungs and throat still bothers her. So much that even when a simple no would suffice to a dinner date, with the nice guy with a nice smile from accounting, she feels her hands shake and her mind cloud. A simple no would have worked but word vomit takes place and she ends up telling him some ridiculous lie that she later regrets because it just puts her back 20 paces into a very dark closet.

That night Quinn politely declines Kurt's offer to take her out and Rachel's offer to come over. She is about two movies into her Netflix queue when she changes her mind and heads out the door.

It's funny to her that out of all the voices and all the faces that have been with her during everything she has been through, surprisingly enough the only one that she really hears is someone she doesn't know.

She finds herself in front of the same club that's been on her mind for the past three days and she's stuck. The bouncers are looking at her and when one ushers her inside despite the line, she shakes her head and steps back. They don't think anything of it. They leave her be on the sidewalk while she again struggles with what exactly her plan is.

It takes her three more attempts to go inside but before she can even step foot past the two bouncers, she stops at the sight of Santana walking out. Dark jeans that could possibly be leggings with the way they mold to her legs, a white tshirt that is covered by simple tan jacket with boots that Quinn wishes she could pull off.

"Bambi?"

Quinn looks around as if Santana could possibly be calling someone else, "Uhm."

"Now, I know you aren't here to tell me you what's up and what's down." Santana stands a little closer to the outside heater meant for the security staff, her arms crossing over her chest while she looks at Quinn in concern, "You okay?"

"I wanted to thank you." Quinn moves off to the side, the gust of heat hitting her body welcoming.

"You already did that."

"I know," Quinn's eyes shift from left to right, "Look, I've been thinking-"

"Jesus."

"Hear me out for second because in two minutes I won't have the courage to say this out loud." Santana frowns but it softens quickly after. She nods and Quinn continues, "I'm driving myself insane. Have been for years now that I really think about it. You're right, I don't know what's right side up or upside down. I've been trying to figure that out for days, weeks, years. I don't know but I want to thank you."

"For?"

"Being the only person I didn't have to explain it to."

* * *

**I am apparently in major need of a beta. This is what happens when none of your friends can ever know that you write.**

**Also this is going to be a slow burn as far as rating goes. If you want sex, well that is going to a take a while to build up to. AU stories just have too much freedom. Withholding sex is like a sin in fanfiction when they put that M rating up there. They'll fuck, no worries.**


	2. Chapter 2

**For the girl at starbucks.**

* * *

They don't really become friends after that night. They have each other's numbers but Quinn makes it a point not to text or call with every major problem she has. They talk maybe once a week but mostly for Quinn's sake. She doesn't really understand why but she just feels different talking to Santana.

Kurt thankfully understands when Quinn tells him that she isn't quite ready to shout on the rooftops about her life changes. He tells her things about time and new people. Rachel on the other hand is a different matter.

It's a Friday night and Quinn is exhausted. Rachel is on her couch rambling on about her next show and Quinn is fighting sleep.

"Enough about me, how are you? Kurt tells me you've been holing yourself at home. He tells me not to worry but I can't help it." Rachel puts a hand on Quinn's shoulder. The silent question of whether or not Quinn wants to talk about it hanging in the air.

"I'm just adjusting to work is all, Rachel. It's been busy." It isn't a lie but it isn't the truth either.

Rachel nods but even through Quinn's sleepy eyes she sees an oncoming freight train, "Now, I know this might be a little premature but don't be mad."

"Rachel…"

"My co-star has friend-"

Quinn is off the couch in seconds, probably even less, "RACHEL!"

"Just wait, I didn't- Look. I didn't say anything personal but they invited me to dinner and I said I could bring a friend. It's not a date! It's a group of us going."

Quinn is standing a few feet away with an arm around her midriff, "I don't know Rachel."

"Just think about it. Please?"

.

* * *

.

The dinner outing turns out to be rather good, despite Quinn's previous reservations, she finds herself enjoying the company of Rachel's co-stars. She didn't really see any good of it when she first heard Rachel's offer but after a few glasses of wine and a meal not consisting of Chinese take-out, it became enjoyable.

Until of course when it's time to leave and everyone is going home that she finds herself left on the sidewalk with a woman from the group while Rachel is on the phone off to the side.

The woman is blonde, tall, from what Quinn remembers in the introductions earlier in the night, a dancer. Brittany.

"Is this as awkward for you as it is for me?" Quinn whips her head to face Brittany. And to Brittany's credit, she is beautiful. The way her hair falls over her shoulders is effortless, unlike Quinn who goes through a different hair cut anytime it's long enough. The way she carries herself in her stance with confidence unlike Quinn who now stands awkward and unsure of everything.

"Mortifying."

"Don't be mad at your friend. She didn't tell me anything. I kind of just picked up on it."

Quinn takes in a breath with wide eyes, "I see."

"You're pretty."

"Uhm. Thanks?"

"No, seriously. You're like hot but totally not my type."

Quinn and rejection never fit together but even when she isn't looking for any kind of affirmation there is still a sting somewhere, "Oh."

Brittany has her hands up and waving them around, "That sounded bad. I'm just saying that- I don't know what I'm saying. You're scared and that is totally understandable but I think it would be better if _you_ took the first step? Having a friend set you up can get kind of messy…"

Quinn slowly nods, "Right. First step. If I only knew what that was."

"You sound like someone I used to know."

Quinn scoffs and wraps her arms around herself, "Do you still have their number? I would love to hear how they got over this." She means it jokingly but when Brittany takes out her phone and genuinely looks through her contacts, Quinn freezes, "I-I I meant that as a joke. I was joking."

Brittany stops scrolling and looks up in confusion, "Oh, I thought that was your first step."

"No. I was-it was a poor excuse of a joke. Sorry. I'm a mess."

Brittany narrows her eyes for a second before smiling and hugging Quinn. The embrace is a surprise but also bad timing because Quinn can hear Rachel's squeak of surprise and it becomes all sorts of awkward as Brittany pulls away but only enough to kiss Quinn on the cheek. The gasp from Rachel is bit dramatic and Quinn is blushing and stays blushing when Brittany hails a cab.

"Well that worked-" Rachel starts.

"Don't start."

.

* * *

.

"I was set up tonight." Quinn is barely over the threshold of her apartment door when she takes her heels off, "I have never felt so embarrassed in my life."

"_That's a lie."_ Santana is on the line and Quinn is shuffling through her apartment.

"_Anyways._ How was your night?" Quinn awkwardly pulls off her jacket and sits on her couch.

"_Better._"

"Ha ha, funny."

"_Well it was. Work wasn't that bad, went out for a late dinner and now I'm home."_

"Late dinner, huh? Sounds like a date."

_"We don't know each other well enough for you to be making those kinds of assumptions, Blondie."_ Quinn smiles at the nickname. Even though the name could be taken different, Quinn finds comfort in it. It isn't said to be mean or insulting, she hears it more as a term of endearment. Santana had a way with words the minute they started talking, nicknames were just a part of her charm in Quinn's mind. Not to say that Quinn didn't have a few nicknames of her own for Santana but she barely used them. Still unsure of her words and their meaning when said out loud.

"Is she pretty?" The question is harmless and mostly to pass the conversation but the way Santana hesitates leaves Quinn wondering if this is still passing conversation.

_"Was yours?"_ Quinn thinks back to Brittany, the way her eyes shined even at night or how she talked with no care as to who her audience was. Quinn could only wish to be so open and carefree.

"Very. I mean she's tall. Blue eyes, blonde hair, great legs, and she's dancer. Nothing like the girls from back home, that's for sure."

_"That doesn't sound like a bad night. Dancers are always a plus in my book."_

"Probably because you _can_ dance. I can't dance to save my life." There is a laugh on Santana's end, "Maybe with a few tequila shots in me but dancing was never me. That was always Kurt and Rachel…although Rachel dancing isn't all that different from me dancing but she isn't on Broadway for shaking her ass."

_"Is she gay?"_

Quinn snorts, "Rachel? No. Though she has had her moments but no, she isn't."

_"So explain to me why tonight sucked, exactly. It sounds like you were in good company. Mind you I try not to hang around theatre geeks but it didn't sound all that bad to me."_

Quinn bites her bottom lip in thought, the memory of Brittany's words ringing in her mind, "She said I wasn't her type."

Santana doesn't miss a beat, "Was she _yours?_"

Quinn pauses, she hadn't really thought about her type. She wasn't even sure she had one yet. If this question was asked about men, she would probably end up spewing all the wrong things about the guy before answering. She should have known then as well, when she couldn't find many interesting characteristics in the men she dated.

"I don't think so."

_"Well that's a start."_

_._

* * *

_._

Quinn becomes bolder after that night. Going as far as to decline the next offer for lunch, by the same guy from accounting, with an answer that wasn't a cover up of her life choices but a legitimate answer dealing with the fact she just wasn't interested. No lies. No backing further into her dark closet. She'd never felt lighter.

Kurt's suggestions to going out to clubs were still a no but she did go on lunch dates with him and his boyfriend. She had avoided doing so for months just because she didn't want to be the odd ball in conversations. Thankfully, Kurt's boyfriend was just as understanding as Kurt was when she first told him that she wondered what she was she so afraid of in the first place.

Quinn begins to learn the meaning of being comfortable with herself at this point. Rachel's set ups are now screened with Kurt because, she may have a better idea of who she is but that doesn't mean Rachel does, so Kurt's two cents is always welcomed.

She finds a strange friendship with Brittany. The girl being a regular at Rachel's apartment for dinners and movie nights, it would have become difficult for Quinn to ignore her. Then again who could when Brittany brings more laughter to the table than all three of them combined. For once in Quinn's life, nothing seemed out of place or in her mother's words unnatural. Everything fit.

"So how is your first step?" Brittany is on the floor stretching her legs out as she looks up to Quinn on Rachel's couch.

"I haven't taken it yet?" Quinn questions even her own words.

"It kind of looks like you have."

Quinn ponders for a moment. All the events in her life that have changed. Who she was 6 months ago versus who she is now. She nods more to herself at the realization that she has in fact changed. Whether or not she has taken a step is up for debate but there was no real clarification to begin with when taking said first step.

Something Santana had mentioned to her weeks ago that no one would know the first step except herself.

"I mean…maybe?"

"You're comfortable now. You aren't looking like you want to hide in a room or anything. Or like the closet."

Quinn laughs and Brittany smiles.

"Have you thought about going out on a date?" Quinn's laugh stops and she is sure she begins to choke on air because all she hears is 'you' and 'date' and Brittany's eyes are looking at her in expectation. She forgets how to breathe let alone answer.

Brittany giggles and shakes her head, knowing fully well the war that is slowly going on in Quinn's mind, "Not with me silly. I mean in general. With people. Out there."

"OH!" Quinn exclaims with a little relief because if there is one thing she has found out, it is that Brittany Pierce is not her type, "No. I mean I guess. I just, I don't know anyone to uhm ask. It hasn't really come up or anything."

She's rambling, she knows it. But Brittany is smiling and Quinn feels that feeling in her chest where everything is stuck and all she wants to do is take in deep breaths.

"I have some friends!"

Quinn is brought back to the night when Rachel and she had a similar conversation. The same feeling she has been trying to control creeps into her chest again but all she sees is Brittany nodding and smiling, all the characteristics of someone who doesn't read the people around her. At least not the way Quinn does. Over analyze a person with every little thing they do or say.

"I don't know, Brittany…"

"It's not like out out. It'll be at my apartment. Who knows maybe you can get your sweet lady kisses on."

* * *

It's a Saturday night when Quinn finds herself half passed out on a bed, the music still thumping behind the closed door. Her head feels light and the room is too dark to tell where she really is. The last thing she remembers are the faces of Brittany's friends in the kitchen shouting together for Brittany to do a body shot. The next she knows she is waking up feeling like she has to throw up and the room won't stop spinning while the party is still raging. She can faintly hear people talking over the music but she doesn't try too hard to eavesdrop. Somewhere some place in the back of Quinn's mind is laughter. Laughter at how her 28 year old self thought it was a good idea to party like she was 18 again.

The door opens and the light that shines through is blinding to her. She can barely keep her hand up to block it but it doesn't last long. Everything turns dark again.

_"I forgot to tell you someone was in your bed."_ It's Brittany's voice that she hears, albeit muffled, Quinn can still hear her through the music.

Quinn fights her water deprived body to get up because the last thing she wants to be is an inconvenience to whoever's space she has invaded.

_"Don't worry though because it's just one person. No one is having like sexy times in there. We may have gotten her a little too drunk but you should really blame Mike since he brought the tequila. And you know how I am with tequila."_

There is a huff but Quinn has given up trying to get out of bed. The sheets are becoming softer by each passing second. Her need to get up is no longer one that is screaming at her. It's her need to sleep it off that wins because by the time she moves herself with her head on a pillow. It takes no more than two seconds before she hears nothing but the thumping of her own heartbeat.

* * *

**Sometimes you need that person to shoot the shit with you know? Like not your beta but kind of your beta? I think they call them friends. Damn, it sucks when you can't talk about your fandoms at work because everyone is too what is the word.. corporate? I don't know. I'm not cut out for this adult life that is for sure...**

**Also these line breaks? Like what bollocks is this? **

**Anyways still need a beta. Still need someone to run ideas off of because some of this stuff is like 'hmmmm' is this even a story? Reviews are nice, and I am as honest as I should be when writing a story that you guys are giving your time to. **


	3. Chapter 3

**For the girl in the office.**

* * *

There is something about the smell of coffee that, even through the worst hangover, Quinn will always wake up. Maybe it's the way the aroma of roasted coffee beans fills the room or that, no matter what time it is, it is never a wrong time for a cup of coffee. It's the smell of coffee that has Quinn opening her eyes to a still dark room, but less so than it was however many hours ago. The sky is lighter, but not by much, as it filters into the room with a nice blue hue.

Before Quinn can take a look around her, she sees Brittany sitting next to her. Her eyes bulge and she nearly has coffee everywhere, but Brittany is shaking her head with wide eyes. "Whoa, no stranger danger. You fell asleep. It's Brittany."

The attempt to sit up is hard, but Quinn does it anyway. Her eyes get a better look of her surroundings, "What time is it?" Her glance flicks to the two cups of coffee in Brittany's hands.

Brittany doesn't hesitate to hand over the extra cup, despite the lack of light in the room her blue eyes still shine, "5 in the morning."

Quinn closes her eyes and lets her head fall against the headboard. "When did I pass out?"

Brittany bites her lip with a guilty face, "Two. You kind of stumbled your way in here after you did a body shot off Tina."

Quinn opens her eyes, "Who is Tina?"

Brittany shakes her head at the look of fear in Quinn's eyes, "A friend. Don't worry, she's married."

"Because that makes me feel _so_ much better."

Brittany smiles and clinks their mugs together, "You had fun. That was the whole point. You were like a rainbow kitty unicorn."

Quinn opens her mouth but she decides it's best not to comment on Brittany's choice of words. Sometimes, it's just easier not to with Brittany. She takes a sip and smiles gratefully, her eyes scanning the room a little, "Is this your room?"

Brittany doesn't get to answer because there is a person standing at the door and Quinn decides that all of Brittany's friends will forever make her feel inferior when it comes to looks and style. The woman standing at the door is in nothing but a black sports bra and yoga pants. But the way she so effortlessly stands, leaning against the door frame is enough for Quinn to want to hide underneath the blankets because, seriously, where the hell were these girls coming from.

"It's my room." Her voice is raspy, yet light, and Quinn has to fight the strong, sudden urge to roll her eyes because who the hell sounds like that at five in the morning. She's pretty and there really isn't any other way to describe her in Quinn's mind. Brunette with great hair which has Quinn wanting to fix her own locks; it's 5 in the morning she knows she has horrible bed hair right now.

"Quinn, Brooke. Brooke, Quinn."

"Good morning!"

Quinn manages a small 'good morning' of her own as she takes another look around the room. A thought hits her when her eyes land back on Brooke's at the door, "If I'm in your bed where did you-"

Brooke smiles and waves a hand in the air, as if to tell Quinn not to worry. "Slept in Brittany's bed last night. It's fine. Though, you did kind of freak me out when I walked in at 2 am because I wasn't expecting anyone but it's okay. We all have our nights."

As they begin to talk about Brittany's schedule for the week, Quinn politely excuses herself from the room. Her legs a little shaky once she finally stands, but she makes it as far as the hallway when she sees another person duck into the bathroom. She doesn't get a chance to question why everyone is awake because Brittany is at her side explaining to her about Sunday morning runs and inquiring if she would like to join. The conversation gets as far as 'six mile run' when Quinn tells Brittany she'll just head home.

* * *

She begins to frequent Brittany's apartment. Of course, Rachel and Kurt insist on escorting her after hearing for her blackout. They just couldn't stand by and not go to another Brittany Pierce party.

It is on her second Saturday night over at Brittany's that Quinn begins to wonder if New York is as big as people make it out to be.

"Quinn!" The door opens after a knock and Brittany is already leading her into the overly occupied apartment.

"I thought this was supposed to be a small party?" Quinn's eyes catch people dancing in the living room, and she has to stifle a laugh when she notices two of them are Kurt and Rachel.

"Friends of friends of friends. It's New York, after all."

Shots are in front of her before she can protest and by the time Kurt and Rachel notice her, she is already four shots in.

"Brittany has an amazing apartment!" Rachel is basically using Kurt to stand while he holds on to a chair for support. Kurt is nodding his head, but Quinn can see the upcoming trip to the bathroom that is flashing across his glazed-over eyes. Rachel isn't too far behind, judging by the way she grips Kurt's arm tighter and tighter as she starts to sway.

"It's actually not my apartment. Brooke owns it." Brittany seems to be the most sober of them all, which has Quinn wondering what Brittany's alcohol intake is. After four, she is already feeling the numbness in her face. The tingles that start at the lips and spreads across the cheeks.

She always considered herself a cheap date.

Surprisingly, she doesn't hear the rest of the conversation because her eyes are starting to blur and she only starts to question now what were in the four shots. She excuses herself and tries to remember the apartment layout. She passes the first (of what she seems to remember were three) bedrooms.

She bumps into a few people. An Asian guy looks at her questioningly when she attempts to move around him. She waves it off because she's on a mission to find the bathroom.

Her body collides with someone and she almost loses it on the spot until hands are steadying her by the arms.

* * *

Quinn doesn't know how she ends up in the bathroom. Or how her hair manages to be in a ponytail (even though she knows she didn't walk into the apartment with a hairband).

A barely concealed whisper catches her attention. "_Is she okay?"_

"_She should be fine," _is the only response.

"_She only had four shots, I swear this time." _Quinn is currently using all of her mental and physical functions to try to keep the remaining contents of her stomach IN her stomach. She doesn't really care who is speaking, or about what.

"_Quinn doesn't eat much,"_ the other voice explains.

"_So she just goes out on an empty stomach?" _Frustration seeps into this speaker's tone.

A mild sigh is expelled from someone's lungs. "_She doesn't usually drink."_

"_Of course she doesn't," _the eye roll is almost visible in the tone of voice alone.

"_Here's some water, make sure she drinks it and then have her lay down in my bed,"_ instructs a kind voice.

Another person interjects. "_No, she took your bed last time she can take mine."_

"_Where are you going to sleep then, B?" _

"_I'll just sleep in your bed." _Once again, the body language is almost visible. The light tone of voice suggests the person behind it is giving a shrug, like what they have just said is the most obvious thing in the world.

The voices are muffled and Quinn can't tell who is behind the door but she knows she is the subject of the current discussion. She can feel her body lurch with purpose and, like a homing missile, she finds herself leaning into the toilet bowl.

Halfway through a dry heave and groan, the bathroom door opens; the music of the party still loud, but it is soon muffled by the close of the door.

"Very classy of you, Bambi."

Quinn isn't too sure where the confidence comes from but as one hand holds on to the edges of the bowl for dear life, the other is up in the air with a middle finger salute. There is a laugh and her free hand finds purchase back to the edge.

"I'd love to catch up, but you're going to need to sit up for me, baby girl. Pretty sure you got rid of everything earlier. You aren't doing anything but developing a hernia."

Quinn just groans in response, her body not agreeing with anything being said as it tries, once again, to rid whatever it can from her system. The sight, she is sure, is a scene from a movie. Rosemary's baby or even those god awful exorcism movies, the body contorting every which way as evil is purged from within, very classy. Quinn wants to laugh at herself, but the feeling only spurs her body to heave again.

Cool hands rub her back and coax her sit up, she resists only for moment, but her grip is starting to slacken and her eyes are growing tired. The bathroom is bright, the tiles white and clean. But when Quinn looks at the figure kneeling in front of her, she feels a wash of relief because only Santana would see her at her worst…again.

"You doing okay, Alice?"

"That's not my name."

"Well, obviously, but Boozy doesn't seem fitting after seeing you forcefully get rid of all the alcohol in your body."

She feels water being pressed to her lips and she finds herself surprisingly greedy to drink it all.

With everything going on, she doesn't even question how Santana is even in front of her in the first place or if this is just a figment of her imagination.

* * *

It's the light that does it. The light that shines in from an unshielded window graces Quinn's face like a splash of cold water. Difference is, she would welcome the cold water, but her body feels lethargic and there is just no way of putting a good spin on the morning. Not when her head weighs like bricks every time her eyes catch even a hint of a ray of light.

"You're a bit of a lightweight."

Quinn wants to whip her head around, but she knows it will only cause her pain, so she opts to slowly turn her head to the voice. Her eyes take in a blurry version of Santana sitting in a chair a few feet away from the bed.

"Morning to you, too." It comes out as a croak, and Quinn's need for water starts to become apparent.

"Afternoon, actually. Do you ever sleep? Or even eat?"

"Excuse me?" Quinn tries to sit up, but, after her second half attempt, she settles for staying down.

"Nothing." Santana is out of the chair and tapping the table next to the bed. A gesture Quinn finds almost rude in her hung over state but she notices the glass of water and bottle of Tylenol, a part of her wants to say thank you, while the other wants to wither and die.

She expects Santana to leave her be, but is surprised when Santana walks over to the window to close the curtains.

"Brittany is at rehearsals for the day. She won't be back until late, so you don't have to worry about getting up anytime soon."

Quinn suddenly feels like an unwanted guest with the way Santana carefully goes around the room and picks up articles of clothing only to set them into a hamper in the corner. Her movements practiced, as if she was going through a daily routine.

"I can leave-"

"I thought you were doing better." Santana is facing her from the foot of the bed, her arms crossed and her eyes filled with concern, "I mean, I just thought in our talks you were okay."

"I am?"

"Yet, here you are, trying to reenact 'The Hangover' series. You sure you doing okay, Quinn?"

It's the first time Quinn has heard her name pronounced out of Santana's lips, and, if weren't for the massive headache thumping at her temple, she would take the moment to tell Santana.

"Rachel and Kurt are in the living room, by the way. They refused to leave you here, something about feeling guilty for not watching out for you." Quinn is about to ask why they haven't checked up on her, but Santana beats her to it, "They are no better and are both still passed out on the couch.

At least she isn't the only one.

"Thank you."

The smile that graces Santana's features is the first one Quinn has seen since their last physical encounter, and Quinn isn't sure why they haven't seen each other sooner. "Always with the 'thank you's'."

"You didn't have to stick around." Santana frowns with a slightly amused face and shrugs while taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Didn't have much else to do on Sunday anyway."

* * *

**You know what is difficult? When you have this story in your head and you end up playing it as a movie...except your mind kind of wanders and you end up finishing the movie and then there is the problem of 'SHIT I had to write that out'. **

**Still...bloody fucking line breaks. Seriously. All of you people who know how to get by that...KUDOS to you guys because I have no clue in the fucking land how you guys format the shit out of your stories. That or I don't have the patience to read directions because who really does? Tutorial? Ask when you are in the heat of battle how to do that sick ass combo.**


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